Another Five Days in the Death of Sgt Brown
by Mounty Swiss
Summary: WHN for "Five Days in the Death of Sgt. Brown", Ironside S6. Not to take it out on others when you are hurt may be hard. But not to do it and try to do the job all alone can be very dangerous.
1. Chapter 1

**Another five days in the Death of Sgt. Brown**

WHN for „Five Days in the Death of Sgt. Brown", Ironside S6  
Warning for those who only read Ironside stories for Ironside: you'll have to wait a few chapters before he makes an appearance.

**Summary:**  
Not to take it out on others when you are hurt may be hard. But not to do it and try to do the job all alone can be very dangerous.

_**recap by tv . com:**_

_Before he can testify as the star witness in a major case, Ed is shot and seriously injured by a mystery assailant. Threatened with paralysis he conducts his own struggle from within his hospital bed, whilst the Chief tries to find out who is still trying to kill his prize pupil.  
* This is an episode of the series __Ironside__ whose events were concluded on __The Bold Ones: The New Doctors__._

Disclaimer: I don't own Ironside and the people around him.

**Chapter 1 **

Ed Brown was going for a walk.  
He had to smile at the thought of the remarks his friends would make if they could see him: He wasn't known for being much of a walker. They liked to tease him about that – although it was actually just a joke between them. They had always found it strange that he had loved running as a student and that now he loathed the idea of simply going for a walk.  
He wasn't exactly running now: It was more like dragging himself on his long crutches. But that was a lot more than what he could have hoped for after being shot and falling off that balcony in LA. His broken back had been operated on with an experimental technique and he had the chance of a full recovery. For the time being he needed those crutches to carry his weight around.

Walking like this would probably not do any good to his back or to his wrist, which was still in a cast. But what else should he have done?

Of course he should have stayed in hospital, he knew it.

He shook his head. No: he'd _had_ to get out of there. Being in constant pain and not taking it out on others had been getting incredibly hard. And taking it out on others was what he wanted to avoid at any cost. He didn't want to hurt others because he was hurt – never _ever_. As much as he adored and understood Chief Ironside – he wouldn't end up like him: Bad-tempered, irritable and seemingly never satisfied with those around him. Nobody really knew how seriously Sgt. Brown had been affected by the Chief's frequent sharp criticism towards him. After all, he was loyal, patient Ed Brown. Nobody ever expected that he would be anything else than loyal and patient. But he'd never taken a scolding easily. And more often than not it had been his own fault: He _had_ made some silly mistakes, sometimes just because he was so eager to do everything to please the Chief.  
Over the past few years Ed had learned to better comply with Ironside's requests. Thanks to his brilliant idol he had grown on the job and as a result got berated less. Sometimes he even felt respected by the Chief, and he knew that Ironside was as loyal to him as vice versa. But the fear sat deep in his heart: That he himself might take his own pain and frustration out on others, just like Ironside had done in the first year after being shot – and then he wouldn't be a gruff but brilliant giant like the Chief. He would just be a pain in the neck.

Consequently he'd had to be alone. Of course they had asked him if he would have any help at home, and he'd said yes. That was a lie. Not even the Chief, Mark or Fran knew about it, thinking that he had a lot of friends. Since he didn't want to bother anyone, he struggled through his days. The pain medication he'd been given had upset his stomach so much that he couldn't keep anything down. Reducing the dose hadn't brought his appetite back nor solved his nausea. On top of that sleeping was next to impossible. Laying, sitting and standing worked for short periods of time only. So he had decided to go for a walk, which probably hadn't been a terrific idea either.

Carefully, he rested his back against the wall of a house. Then he thought about the Chief in his wheelchair and he was very, very grateful that he was able to stand and walk at all. It was still some kind of a miracle...

That was when he became aware of the little boy.  
He was about five years old, had dark, curly hair, dark eyes and probably Mediterranean ancestors. He was playing joyfully with a checkered ball. Ed's detective mind registered all those details automatically. Because he had nothing else to do and because it was a lovely sight, his eyes followed the kid. The boy turned around and waved: "Mama, look!" – and Ed heard a woman's friendly voice coming from the left: "Enrico, be careful with that ball!" Enrico seemed to be a good dribbler though.  
Suddenly he came to a stop in front of a stocky man of about sixty, letting his ball roll, forgotten, towards a gutter.

"Enrico, run away!" his mother yelled at the top of her voice. Ed's instinct told him instantly that something had to be wrong.

The woman was rapidly drawing near the boy and the grey-haired man. "Don't touch my child!" she shouted.  
Nevertheless the man grabbed Enrico's arm and dragged him away. "Noo, leave him alone!" the mother said with tears rolling down her cheeks, but the man didn't listen, although Enrico was now crying too.

Ed couldn't just stand there and watch. With a couple of long hops on his crutches he got in the man's way: "Stop!"

"Get out of my way, cretino!" said the man before punching Ed to the stomach. The blow made Ed lose his balance, causing him to smash his back into the window of the jewelry shop behind him before collapsing to the ground. It wasn't a bad fall, it nevertheless knocked the wind out of his lungs.

Enrico's mother tried to free her son, but the man was too strong.  
Ed managed to hit him in the legs with one of the crutches – not to hurt him, only to make him trip. The man let go of the child. Enrico and his mother started to run. The old man was getting back on his feet when, at that very moment, two elderly women came out of the jewelry shop, unintentionally getting between the man and the two running persons. The man gave up on his idea of chasing them. He simply turned around and fled.

Enrico's mother managed to comfort her son, although it was visible that she was shaken up herself. The old ladies offered their help only to be sent away in a friendly but firm manner.  
Enrico fetched his ball and squatted at Ed's side.  
"Thank you, Sir! You're my hero! I'm Enrico Pozzi, and this is my mother. I'm sure she wants to thank you too."

The woman was a couple of years older than Ed, a little chubby, and looking like the typical Italian mamma. She looked at the handicapped young man on the ground who had turned his face towards the shop in an attempt to hide the pain that made him press his knuckles against his teeth. She had noticed his pain despite his efforts to be stoic.

"How are you, Sir? Can I help you get up? I'm so sorry for what has happened to you!"

"Have... to... call... police," Ed managed hoarsely.

"No sir – please no police."

"Why... not?"

"That man is – that man's my father."


	2. Chapter 2

With her help and the support of the window behind him, Ed struggled to his feet. He fought a rising nausea.

"I'm ok, Mrs. Pozzi, thank you," he lied, still confused about the whole situation.

"It's Miss," she said shyly, "Enrico doesn't have a father."

"But mama, I _do_ have a father, how could you forget? The good Lord in heaven is my father who protects me, and he's sent this man as an angel to rescue me."

"Of course you are right, carissimo. Our angel looks like he should get some rest though, don't you think so?" – and to Ed: "I used to work as a nurse before Enrico was born. I can see that you're not well. We will help you home."

Ed doubted that she could help him, but he was so dizzy that he had no choice but to accept.

It turned out that the woman knew what she was doing. She supported his left shoulder with much more strength than he had expected.

Although they didn't have far to go it was getting dark by the time they reached Ed's home.

Miss Pozzi helped Ed lay down onto his bed, fully dressed as he wished.  
Not wanting to intrude, she left quietly with her son.

Although Ed was grateful for her help, he felt relieved that he was finally on his own again.

He tried to relax, but that wasn't easy. He had felt totally helpless that afternoon – and he had probably made a fool of himself. He still didn't understand the whole thing. Did the man and his daughter really fight about her child? That was more than odd. Now, as it seemed to be a family matter he had to stay out of it.

Half an hour later he was still laying there, trying to force himself to get up to get a glass of water - when the telephone rang. Fortunately, the phone stood on his nightstand, because working for Chief Ironside meant that he had to be ready to be called at all times. Ed picked it up and immediately recognized Miss Pozzi's voice. She sounded upset.

"Sir, I'm very sorry to disturb you again. My father was waiting for us at our home, and he's managed to take Enrico with him. I need help and have no one to turn to. May I come to your place? You were friendly towards us once, so I was hoping..." her voice trailed away.

"Don't you think that this is a police matter now? That's abduction we're talking about."

"You see, it's still in the family. It's quite complicated. Let me explain it to you. Please."

Sighing inwardly, Ed said: "Ok, come here, although I don't see how I could be of any help."

When the doorbell rang, he laboriously stood up. He opened the door and let Miss Pozzi in.

"I'm afraid there's no coffee," he said as a way to start the conversation.

"Sir, my child has been abducted. The last thing I care about now is coffee."

Only now did Ed notice the crestfallen look in her eyes, and he felt ashamed. But he still didn't really understand.

"Please, sit down and explain. You said yourself that this isn't a police matter. Enrico is with his grandfather – so why are you so worried?"

"You see, as a young man, my father was a mathematician in Italy. He taught mathematics in high school. It was during the 1930s and, since he didn't agree with Mussolini and his politics, he emigrated to the U.S.A.

The "American dream" didn't work out for him though. Because his English skills weren't good enough he never found his way back into teaching. He had to work in construction, although he hated it. All this led him to be bitter and probably also a little… err… a little strange. I am his only child, while Italians like big families. He expected me to walk in his footsteps, but I wasn't gifted for mathematics. I'm more the practical type like my mother. I was a big disappointment to my father.

Nevertheless he considered me as being too good for any American man, and according to his wishes I hardly ever joined other young people. Until I met Marco. He was very nice to me. We started dating and I got pregnant. Before I could tell him the good news, he broke off our engagement because he wanted to go abroad. I didn't want to force him into marriage, so I just let him go. We Italians are very proud, you know.

But we're also strict Catholics. My father was absolutely furious when he found out about the baby. He threw me out of his house. My mother and I often met secretly though, and she gave me some money after the baby was born, so I could stay home with Enrico as long as he needed me. Now I also work part-time as a house keeper, so we manage.

Last week my mother died. My father found out about the money and at the funeral he threatened to kill Enrico. Because he had paid for his upbringing he had the right to do so, he said. He probably doesn't really mean that, but I can't be sure, can I? He seems to be really mentally sick now."

That was the whole sad story.

Ed was at a loss for words.

Then Miss Pozzi showed him a letter her father had left at her place.

It was written in English. Mr. Pozzi had finally learned the language well enough:

"Do what I want or your bastard will feel the consequences. No police or I will kill him."

At the bottom of the letter, there were just numbers:

991/877/941/907/953 967/887/887/977 997/907/977

983/919/887/859/947/971/863 967/887/877 859/947/971

983/947/941/919/977. 859/887/911/887/877/877/887/839 863/941/829

887'983/919/887/983/929 941/907 967/877/887/907/859 887/967

827/887/857/877 947/887/857/863/971.

"You see, my father still wants to prove that he's more intelligent than most other people. It's like an obsession. Now he wants me to decipher his letter, but I can't crack the code. It's got to have something to do with mathematics."

"My boss, Chief Ironside, would probably be a big help," Ed said.

How should he explain to somebody who didn't know the Chief that he wasn't just a police officer, but ... Ironside?

She didn't want any police involved, even after he'd told her that he was a police officer too.

"My father has no way of knowing that you are a policeman," she replied.

Since Ed wasn't too bad with codes and mathematics himself, he started to mull over the code.

* * *

_Author's note: Who wants to help Ed solve the enigma? It's feasible!_


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

While Ed studied the numbers in the letter, Lena Pozzi, wanting to make herself useful somehow, cleaned his apartment. Of course Ed had been unable to do it since he had left Craig institute in Los Angeles and unwilling to ask anyone to do his cleaning for him.

All the numbers in the code had three digits. The lowest was 827, the highest 997.

They constituted groups of two to eight. These groups had to represent words, so every number had to stand for a letter.

He arranged the numbers in ascending order. There were 21 different numbers which probably matched the number of different letters in a text of this length. But the text was too short to work with the commonness of the letters.

And then there were a lot of forward slash signs and one apostrophe. Was that a mistake or did it mean anything?

Which number stood for which letter?

What kind of pattern, if any, was in that order?

He shared his observations with Lena - by now they were on first-name terms - but she had no idea what to do with them.

Towards midnight, Lena lied down on Ed's couch. He gave her a blanket and she fell asleep.

He went back to his work.

Suddenly he saw it: Those were all prime numbers. But some had been left out; supposedly the unused letters.

It took quite some calculating to complete the list of all prime numbers from 827 to 997.

With one of those fancy calculating machines he would have been a lot quicker... unfortunately he had no access to such a machine.

Finally he had found 25 prime numbers in his list – but the number of letters in the English alphabet was 26! Had he made a mistake? Or was the text in Italian? Were there less letters in Italian? He didn't know, but he didn't want to disturb the sleeping woman, either. Perhaps the next smaller or the next bigger prime number was an unused letter. The next smaller would have been 823. The next bigger would have been above 1,000, which seemed less likely. He just had to try.

If "A" was 823, "Z" fitted to 997.

He tried to decipher Lena's father's note, but it made no sense at all. So it had to be in Italian – or did it?

There were other possibilities like using the list backwards for instance.

Ed pencilled the alphabet again under the numbers, this time matching "A" to 997 and "Z" to 823.

Thankfully the code worked. Ed deciphered:

"Bring clothes and food for the child, tomorrow six o'clock in front of your house."

At five o'clock Ed mustered all his strength and stood up. Gently, he aroused the sleeping woman.

"Lena, you have to get up. You have to be at your place in an hour."

He explained to her what her father had stipulated.

"I will come with you. He doesn't know that I'm a police officer, and the letter doesn't say anything about you coming alone."

They took a cab although it wasn't a long distance to go. Lena's apartment was situated on the seventh floor of an old building with no elevator, which proved quite a challenge for Ed. Lena filled a bag with some clothes and Enrico's favorite food.

Ed observed the streets around the building as closely as he could from her place but didn't detect anything unusual.

Well before six o'clock they went downstairs and waited for Mr. Pozzi to come – hopefully with Enrico.

Mr. Pozzi came exactly on schedule. He used a taxi. Enrico was with him all right... and his grandfather was holding a knife to his throat so that Lena and Ed could see it, but not the cab driver.

On his orders, Lena pushed the bag through the window. He just grabbed it and whispered: "Wait for my phone call at 6 p.m."

Then the cab drove away.

Ed knew what he had to do...at once. In his heart, he railed at having to go up the seven long stairs again. He reached the seventh floor with sharp pain in his back and he was short of breath. When he finally got to Lena's phone he dialed the police.

"This is Sgt. Ed Brown. I need an APB on a Moonlight cab, license number..."

"Sir?"

Perplexed, Ed asked back: "Didn't you hear me?" Sure, he was breathing heavily, but his voice should have been clear enough. "This is urgent. I need an APB..."

"Sir, we have the information that Sgt. Edward Brown is in Los Angeles in a hospital. We can't take any orders from you unless you can prove who you are." Ed didn't recognize the voice, this had to be a new policeman.

"I'm here in San Francisco, and this is an emergency!"

"I'm sorry, Sir, but that's standard procedure."

Frozen, Ed stood in Lena's corridor with the telephone receiver in his hand. His back was killing him, he was still trying to get his breathing under control, he needed the police urgently and _they_ were talking about 'standard procedure'! He was fuming and was about to shout at that fool at headquarters... but didn't. That was what he never wanted to do again: To hurt others because he was hurting. Never, _ever_.

It was probably too late anyway: A clever man like Pozzi would already have taken another cab and perhaps even a third.

"Just forget it." Slowly he put the receiver down.

Pozzi had won again, the child was still at his mercy.

Lena noticed that Ed was on the verge of breaking down. Quickly she helped him lie down on her couch, although it was too short for his long legs. She waited until his breathing was more or less back to normal, then she said:

"I think that Enrico is safe for the time being. Why else should my father have asked for clothes and food? He will call us later today, so try not to worry."

Ed had to admire her for being so brave. She was comforting _him_!

"You should eat something," she proposed.

Ed couldn't face the thought of food, though. "Could I just get a glass of water, please?"

Frowning she shook her head but went to the kitchen to get him what he wanted and eat something herself.

When she came back Ed asked her if her father still worked as a construction worker or if he had retired.

"He still works, he's only fifty-nine years old. Why do you ask?"

"He was wearing an overall. So I was wondering if he was planning to go to work – as unlikely as this may sound."

"You're right. I was so upset that I didn't notice what clothes he was wearing, but now that you talk about it... Then we have to watch out for him! Let's search every job site in the area where he lives!"

"Lena – do you really think that he would do that? And where would he have left your son?"

"Perhaps he has taken Enrico with him. Please, let's go and look for him!"

Ed was rather skeptical. Then he thought that it was probably better for Lena to have something to do rather than wait around the whole day.

Lena had a driver's license, but no car, because she couldn't afford one. Since Ed was unable to drive in his present state, she went for Ed's car. She helped him get into it, then they started their search. To Ed it seemed that they visited dozens of job sites and that Lena asked hundreds of people if they had seen her father or Enrico – but to no avail.

During the short rides between the job sites, Lena considerately tried to find out what had happened to Ed's back. He told her the outline – the drug case, the shooting, the fall, but not much more. She sensed that he didn't want to talk about it.

Instead he seemed very interested in her life with her son.

"Does Enrico know his grandfather at all?"

"No, they had never met. For the funeral he stayed with a friend." She had photos of the little boy in her purse and she showed them to Ed, and every word made her love for the child more obvious.

Unfortunately, she didn't have any other useful information about her father. They didn't find him, which didn't come as a surprise to Ed.

Shortly before six o'clock they returned to Lena's place. Under no circumstances could they risk missing Pozzi's phone call.

Ed wondered about what was to be expected of that call.

"Do you think that this time he will simply _tell_ you what will happen next?"

"No, that wouldn't be like my father. I suppose there will be another mystery to solve."

"It might be helpful to trace that phone call."

"His message will probably be too short for that. He said just one sentence this morning, remember?"

At 6 p.m. the phone rang. The message was very short indeed:

"Look into the letterbox of the vacant apartment below yours."

That was all.

Again Ed and Lena made the long way down to the front door. Immediately they found the unused letterbox. Ed wasn't able to bend down to get a look into it, but Lena saw that there was a letter.

"How do we get it out?"

"Do you have any knitting needles?"

"Yes, I do – will they help?"

"Go get two of them, we'll see."

She ran up and came back down with the needles in record time.

"Use them like Chinese chopsticks to pick up the letter."

It was tricky, but she finally managed to get the letter out.

Then there were the seven stairs to climb again...

The letter said:

"Did you find another lame duck to care for?"

Lena blushed and explained: "When I was a child I used to find all sorts of hurt animals and bring them home. When I grew up, there were also children or even adults to care for. That's probably why I wanted to be a nurse."

Ed smiled. That fitted very well with the Lena he had got to know.

Lena read on: "Does your crippled new boyfriend help you with my codes? He's quite good at mathematics, isn't he? He will have trouble with this one though. You will get my phone call tomorrow at six o'clock."

And then there was the code:

75744/74747/75755/75765/44447 57775/74747/74447/55655/44447/75755/74447/74747

This was going to be a long night again...


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Lena had put another glass of water onto the table where Ed was working on the new code.

She was troubled and worried about his refusing any food. But she respected his wishes.

"Please call me if you need anything or if you think that I can help you in any way or if you find out the tiniest bit of information!"

She was emotionally drained now and Ed was glad that she lied down.

He tried desperately to find a pattern, but to no avail.

Supposedly, each of those five-digit numbers stood for just one letter. If this assumption was right, the code was far too short to show a normal frequency of letters. Still it was noticeable that there were three times the number '74747'. This could very well be a common letter like 'E'. How could you get 'E' out of '74747'?

Was this really mathematics? He read the letter again and again and actually wasn't sure about that anymore.

He had to ask Lena. Reluctantly he woke her up.

"Does your father have another hobby, or something he's especially interested in?"

Lena thought about it, then she sighed and said:

"I can't think of anything special. Perhaps computers, because his own mind works a lot like some sort of machine."

Ed left her and went back to his work.

Computers? Ed tried to recall what he knew about them. He was afraid that it wasn't very much. He was awfully tired - he would _really_ have liked to call the Chief for help! But Ironside would ask too many questions and it would not be possible to keep him out of the picture once he was involved.

What could these strange numbers have to do with computers? As far as he knew, computers didn't even work with numbers other than 0 and 1... hang on!

0 and 1, that was binary ... That could be something like a code!

He had to think hard to remember how to convert binary numbers into the decimal system and vice versa. And with those big numbers, that would be an awful lot of work!

Perhaps he could work with every digit for itself? He would try 74747.

The solution was 111/100/111/100/111. And what now?

After a few fruitless attempts he wrote them in a column – and then he saw the pattern:

111

100

111

100

111

There was his 'E'! You had to look at the "ones" and ignore the "zeros".

The rest was almost easy.

The only number he didn't understand immediately was '57775':

101

111

111

111

101.

But he found all the others and read:

'PEARL ?ECKLACE'.

'57775' had to be an 'N': 'Pearl necklace'. Did Lena have one?

He had to wake Lena up again to ask her.

She rose at once.

"My father presented my mother with a nice pearl necklace when they got married in Italy. I don't even know its value. For us it was always our 'family treasure'. It seemed evident that I should get it when my mother would die. She gave it to me a few months ago, when she got sick."

"You will give it to him, won't you?"

"Actually it's coming out of his family, so in a way it belongs to him. And compared to my son's life it's not important at all."

Lena took the necklace out of her jewelry box to have it ready when Mr. Pozzi would call.

In the meantime, Ed shaved and washed himself as well as he could.

Then there was nothing to do but wait.

At six o'clock a.m. they were glad to hear the telephone ring.

"I want your boyfriend to do this alone. He will have to be quick. I will watch him at certain points, and if he's not alone your son will feel it. I want him to place the claimed item at the foot of the oak down your road. There he will find the instructions about what to do next".

That said Pozzi hung up.

For a second, Lena was shocked.

"This is _my_ problem. I can't expect you to do that. You have already done more than enough for Enrico and me."

Ed felt worn out. He couldn't remember when he'd last had a good night's rest. And this looked like it would develop into some sort of wild goose chase.

"You still don't want to involve my boss, do you?"

"No, I'm so afraid... I don't know what to do anymore..."

She started to cry. Not dramatically. Very quietly, but also very dolefully. "I just love Enrico so much. He's all I have left."

Ed knew that he couldn't let her down. And neither could he let down a little boy who believed in a heavenly father who sent people as angels to help him.

"I'll do what I can," he said, gently touching her arm. "Show me the way to that oak."

Ed found the tree all right – and he also found an envelope. It hung from a branch about four yards above the ground. It was impossible to reach it with his crutches. And he should have been quick...

He picked up a stone – which was difficult enough – and threw it up the tree. He missed the envelope, as he had expected. Ignoring his aching back he tried again. The fifth stone hit its target and the envelope fell down.

He opened it at once. He found the name of a street about three miles away and a brainteaser:

50006  
00500  
30002

30008  
00200  
40003

70003  
00?00  
10003

Ed placed the necklace on the ground beside the oak and headed towards the mentioned street. On his way he tested different patterns of calculations. Before he reached the named street he knew the – probable – answer: 7.

Supposedly, Pozzi had multiplied the first number by the second one and then divided this intermediate result first by the number at the bottom right and then by the one at the bottom left. The final result had to stand in the middle.

He dragged himself to the house with the number 7 and started to search. After so many years on Ironside's team he knew how to look for clues. But there was no envelope, no letter: At least not in front of the house or on its façade. Was his solution wrong? Or was he too late, had somebody found the letter before him and thrown it away? Or children, or a dog...?

There was one place where he hadn't looked yet: In the road in front of the house, there was a sewer. Could the letter be hidden there? But the sewer was covered with a heavy iron grid.

Looking into the sewer it seemed to Ed that there might be some paper down there.

How on earth should he get that grid off the hole? He was in no shape to even carry his own weight without the crutches, and he was not allowed to ask for help.

A bit further down the road he saw smaller houses, one even with a little front garden. Perhaps he could find some instrument there.

On the left side of the house with the garden there was an open garage. There he found some skis and ski poles – modern ones made out of metal. Moreover there was a pile of firewood. Ed took out his pencil and notebook and wrote a note for the owner with a word of excuse and his phone number. Then he took a ski pole and a big piece of wood and went back to house No. 7.

With his pocket knife he cleared the sides of the grid and one of the holes in it. He managed to stick the ski pole into the hole. He laid the piece of wood under the ski pole and used his weight to push down the end of the pole. But the grill was too heavy and his back too weak. Ed saw stars and the grid didn't budge. Discouraged he gave up.

Nevertheless he had to get to that letter – if it was really down there.

He forced himself back to the house with the garden, taking the ski pole back. In the garage, he found a clothesline. He wasn't sure if it was strong enough – but probably still stronger than he was himself, he thought wryly.

House No. 7 had an entrance door with a window behind iron bars. They looked old, but sturdy.

Ed cleaned some more holes in the grid and attached the clothesline through two of them before slipping the end of it under one of the bars at the door, then he went a second time through two holes of the grid and again behind one of the bars at the door in order to build a double purchase pulley. He started to pull with all the force he had left, disregarding the pain in his back. Finally he managed to lift the grid. He could put his foot into the gap and push the grid away. He took a minute to recover, then took a close look into the sewer. There was the envelope, stuck to an iron bar, about two feet under the surface. Lying flat onto his stomach, Ed was able to reach the envelope thanks to his long arm. He had to rip it to get it out. He just hoped that this wouldn't matter.

Leaving the sewer open was a little dangerous for children who might be playing nearby, but he couldn't bring himself to close it. He was near the end of his stamina and he knew it. But was this the end of Pozzi's goose chase, too?

He opened the envelope and read:

"Well done, cripple. At the next corner there's a phone booth. Call me at the following number – and hurry: The first numbers are the same as in that phone booth. The last four are the following:

- of π (pi) the 5th place behind the decimal point

- of Euler's constant the second place behind the decimal point

- The result of {i² + 6}

- of √5 the 3rd place behind the decimal point."

That wasn't difficult. Ed had always liked mathematics...


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

He found a phone booth at the next crossroads and dialed the number with the four digits 9-1-5-6 at the end.

"You needed a lot of time, didn't you?" asked Pozzi without waiting for an answer.

"Go south from where you are. About two miles away you will see some storage buildings. In the middle of them you will find my next letter – perhaps you'll find it in time. The boy will tell you why you should hurry up."

"Please, Sir, don't let him hurt me!" came Enrico's small voice through the phone.

Ed went south as fast as he could – which wasn't very fast.

After a seemingly endless time Ed finally spotted four storage buildings, originally of the same company. The place looked deserted. This time, he didn't have to look for Pozzi's letter: It was placed above one of the big doors of the largest building, quite visible to everybody. It was nailed safely. One would have to climb up there to get it down. Only problem: Ed couldn't climb with the cast on his wrist and his injured back. By now he was completely exhausted and barely able to stand. Enrico was in trouble though, that was the only thing that counted. Ed decided not to think about impossibilities, but to just do what he had to do. Later he wouldn't be able to remember how he got up to that letter. In order to pick it up he had to reach up as high as possible with his right hand, the good one. He managed to catch the letter, but in the meantime he had to hold himself with only his left hand, the one with the cast. There was not enough strength in this wrist to hold his weight. Ed lost his footing and fell heavily to the ground.

Sometime later, a tall, athletic truck driver found the prone body and knelt down by his side. By the looks of him he wondered if that man was a drunk or a drug-addict. Then he saw the clean-shaven, sympathetic face. The jacket was torn, but not dirty. And then there were the cast and those crutches, and strangely enough an envelope in his right hand... But what was this young man doing here, where nobody ever went to on foot? He did not know what to think of it all. He retrieved his water bottle out of the truck. With his handkerchief he washed the ashen face. Slowly, Ed came to.

"Hi, I'm Ben. What's happened to you?" the driver asked.

Ed could not answer yet.

"Shall I call an ambulance or take you to a hospital?" Ben was getting worried now.

"N-no," Ed managed, and a little while later he could tell Ben Lena's address.

"No problem, I've just finished my shift. Just let me park this truck where it belongs and get my own car. Stay put."

Ed had no intention of going anywhere on his own right now. He managed to stuff the envelope into one of his pockets.

Soon afterwards Ben came back.

"Are you sure you don't want to go to a hospital or at least see a doctor? You don't look too good."

Ed didn't feel too good, either. But he had to know if Lena had any news about Enrico.

So he shook his head.

"What do you have those crutches for? I don't want to hurt you by mistake."

"B-back".

Very gently, Ben helped Ed get into his car. Thankfully, it was quite large and comfortable, since Ben was a tall man himself.

By car, it didn't take long to get back all the way Ed had walked since this morning.

Ben helped him up to Lena's apartment, again carrying most of Ed's weight.

Lena was appalled at the change in her new helper's condition since he had left her.

She was alert enough though to ask for Ben's full name and address. She would thank him later, she said... a nice, uncomplicated, helpful fellow who at the right time had been at the right place.

"Goodbye, take good care of him, Lady!" said Ben cheerfully as he left.

Lena helped Ed to take off his torn jacket and lie down.

He looked sick and beaten and as if he couldn't think clearly anymore.

Lena didn't ask any questions. She sensed that Ed wasn't able to explain anything right now. Nevertheless she was worried to death: In the first place for Enrico, and now for Ed, too.

"S-sorry," he said.

"Don't talk. Just rest. Please forgive me for having dragged you into all this."

For some time Ed had to fight against being sick. But then he got aware of the fear in Lena's eyes. There was still some work to do...

The last envelope was still in the pocket of his jacket. He told Lena so and she took it out and opened it.

It said: "This is one for you Lena, for your know-it-all boyfriend does not know my books."

A row of numbers followed:

5/3/7, 8/2/3 and so on – in triples from two to eight.

"Do you know what to make out of this?" asked Lena.

And this time, Ed knew.

"He refers to a book. So I probably know this code. It looks like the French Queen Marie-Antoinette's: She used a book to codify her texts. The code indicated where to find a certain word: Page, line, word. For instance 16/4/3 meant: page 16/ 4th line/3rd word."

"What book did he use?"

"It must be one you know – but it's possible that he has it with him now. We have to look through all the books in his place and if it's not one of those we must find out which one is missing. Then we'll have to find the same book in a library or a bookstore."

Lena was well aware that just talking alone exhausted him.

"Ed – you can't do that. You've been pushing yourself too hard. I'm scared..."

Ed wanted to object, but reluctantly he had to admit that she was right. Physically he wasn't able to go on.

"I'm very sorry." His voice was strained. He had to give up, there was no other way. It was one of the toughest things he'd ever had to do. What would happen to Enrico now?

"Lena, we have to call Chief Ironside for help."

Lena nodded. She could not ask more from this dedicated man. They had to take that risk.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Ironside was sitting at the octagonal table when the door opened and Ed slowly walked in.

It was the first time after the shooting that the Chief saw him on his feet, and he felt an overwhelming sense of delight. Then he noticed that his friend was leaning heavily onto his crutches. How haggard his face had become, and how pale! Something must have gone terribly wrong.

"Nice to see you, Sergeant," he greeted, poker-faced. "But shouldn't you be in bed?"

Ed sat down at the table, which seemed to be a difficult task. He didn't answer the Chief's question, for he didn't pay that much attention to it, and moreover he didn't think it mattered at all. Propping himself on his elbows in an attempt to relieve the pressure to his back he asked instead:

"Sir, do you recall that evening about five years ago, when I walked out on you?" (*)

"Yes. That was the only time you _really_ revolted against me."

"I'm terribly sorry about that now." Ed's hoarse voice revealed his alarming weakness – and his feeling of guilt.

After the events of the day he really understood how hard life had to be for the Chief: the pain, the disability, the frustration. He could still hope that his present condition was only temporary, while Ironside had no choice but to live with his disability permanently.

"Don't be. Maybe I needed it." Concerned and pensive the Chief looked at the young man who struggled to put on a brave face. Although he was obviously hurting badly and barely able to walk, sleep or eat properly, he tried not to let anyone know.

How often had he, Ironside, taken his moods out on his Sergeant, especially in the first years after the bullet! He had rarely treated Eve or Fran that way, and Mark had proved capable of defending himself. Ed had just accepted it and kept his tongue – at least most of the time. And now, in a somewhat different situation, he was behaving the same way: remaining silent ... instead of sharing his troubles with his closest friends.

"Sergeant! Do me a favor and tell me what's happened to you. Don't try and be so stoic. Swear and complain, if you have to, but don't just stomach it all," Ironside growled.

Ed laid his head onto his crossed arms and closed his eyes.

Ironside did not miss the slight trembling of the bony shoulders under the thin shirt. He was tempted to lay a protecting arm around those shoulders, as he would have done with any friend outside the police force. By doing so he wished that he could restore his frail sergeant's strength, forget that he was the boss and the young man was his subordinate. He didn't. However, when he spoke up again, his voice was unusually soft and caring: "Go home, Ed. Get some rest, you shouldn't have come here in the first place."

"Can't," was the muffled answer.

In order to give him some time to recover his composure Ironside poured him a cup of black coffee.

Ed tried to drink up but he managed only a few sips.

"Now tell me - what's the matter?"

"I need your help."

And Ed told Lena's and Enrico's story, haltingly, but in a clear-cut manner as he had been trained to do: The abduction, the threats if they would call the police, the riddles –without mentioning his fall by the storage building of course.

"Now I can't solve the last riddle. It looks like the Marie-Antoinette code. We have no idea which book he used. It has to be one Lena knows. First thing we need is a search warrant for Pozzi's apartment. If Lena can find out which book is missing, we have to try and get it from a library or bookstore."

Ironside nodded. "And of course it could still be at Pozzi's place. All his books have to be looked through in case one fits the code."

Seeking help Ed addressed his boss: "I can't do all of that on my own."

Ironside knew that this would be a lot of work. Looking at Ed he knew that he was in no shape to do _any_ of it. That boy definitely belonged into a hospital bed.

"Didn't they give you any painkillers at the hospital?" the Chief asked.

"Yes, they did."

"And do you take them?"

"No, not 'ny more. They made me sick and dizzy, and I can't afford to be sick or dizzy right now."

Ironside felt his anger rise, but now wasn't the time to admonish his Sergeant... not to mention the fact that in Ed's place he probably would have done exactly the same.

He didn't hesitate to give this case top priority.

"Okay, I expect Fran and Mark to come back any minute. Leave that book mystery to us, take at least an aspirin and lay down."

Ed wasn't used to this soft side of his superior. Somehow it was unsettling him. He gave the Chief a quizzical look, and with a slightly wry smile on his face said: "Please Chief - don't change too much."

* * *

Leaving the riddle to Ironside and the rest of his team to solve wasn't that easy though. There was no chance that they could crack the code for six o'clock, which had been Pozzi's preferred time until now. Ed didn't know what to expect, but he wanted to be near Lena's phone in case something happened and there wasn't much time left.

Fortunately, Fran and Mark had just returned.

Ironside had Mark check back with the commissioner to get official clearance to investigate.

He didn't give Fran any opportunity to make a fuss about Ed but briefed her on the "Pozzi case".

They tried to imagine what might happen next. Probably Lena or Ed would get new instructions. Of course it was anyone's guess what they might be.

The Chief wanted to be prepared for different eventualities. He ordered Fran to pack a big plastic bag with whatever he thought might be needed.

Together they drove to Lena's place.

Mark parked the car in front of the house she lived in. The side doors of the van opened. Fran stepped onto the platform behind the Chief who lowered his wheelchair to the ground. Ed didn't move. Instead he was staring at the building in front of them.

"Ed, do you intend to spend the night here?"

"Chief ... I forgot something," Ed said despondently, not daring to look up. Again he didn't go on until Ironside spoke up: "What is it?"

"Lena's apartment is in the seventh floor ... and there's no elevator."

"No ... what?" Ironside shouted, exasperated. "And how do you figure that I should get up to this apartment? You don't expect me to go up the stairs on my rear end, taking one step at a time, do you?"

Ed didn't know what to reply nor where to look. Finally he climbed out of the co-driver's seat.

Mark, who knew how much the Chief hated waiting, tried to appease him: "If and when the phone call comes in we will report back to you immediately."

As soon as they were out of the Chief's sight Mark took pity on his friend. He took one of Ed's crutches and carefully laid his right arm around Ed's waist. Supported by Mark on his left side, the one with the broken wrist, walking was made a lot easier for Ed. Nevertheless he seemed to be dragging his feet, plagued with self-reproach: What a silly mistake about the stairs! Mark however wondered briefly how heavy such a skinny man could be...

As they reached Lena's apartment, the phone started ringing.

Fran stayed with Ironside. Her reproachful glare spoke volumes. How could he treat a sick man the way he did? Then she looked into his eyes and recognized that the Chief wasn't actually mad but very worried and very nervous: under more pressure than he could take, strong as he was.

Wordlessly she laid her hand on his, trying to calm him down.

Irritated he pulled his arm away. "It's not _me_ needing your compassion," he growled.

Fran couldn't be fooled by the Chief's moods anymore. She smiled at him reassuringly. "Try not to worry too much. Nothing will happen to him or to the child, now that you're involved in the case."

Slowly the frown on his face started to smooth somewhat. Looking up to the windows of the seventh floor he mumbled: "I still have a bad feeling about the whole thing."

* * *

(*) _Pilot to the series_


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Lena answered the phone at the first ring.

"I've noticed that you and your new boyfriend couldn't solve my last riddle in time. Can you hear the kid?" – They heard Enrico's loud cry: Obviously Pozzi had slapped the boy.

"No, please, don't hurt Enrico!" Lena pleaded.

"Shut up and listen. I'll give you one last chance. I want that man on crutches sent to the phone booth right down your road. I will call him there. He will come alone. And he won't be carrying any weapon, not even a pocket knife. Or else…"

Lena reported the short message to the others. Tears for her child shone in her eyes.

They all went down to the van for a short briefing, hoping that Pozzi wasn't close enough to see them and possibly guess that Lena and Ed were being helped by the city's smartest cop.

While Lena and Fran seemed to get along immediately, Lena remained a little timid towards the Chief.

Ironside considered their situation. It was a difficult one.

In his present condition Ed was no match for the old, but still strong man, and Pozzi knew that.  
The Chief gazed at his Sergeant and made up his mind.  
There was not much left of the athletic, stalwart co-worker he had always been able to rely on, and even his normally quick wits seemed to be affected. He looked frail, vulnerable and near breaking point.  
"Ed, you are not going out there."

For a moment everyone was absolutely quiet.

"Sir – with all due respect: Do you see another option?"  
The Chief discerned in Ed's voice at the same time respect, fear and utter conviction. He looked his sergeant in the eye and saw that the man wasn't easy to break. This was still the friend he knew, the friend who, with his guidance, had become a mentally strong and reliable police officer. He might be hurt and worn out and physically weak, but broken... no, that would take more.

Ironside wished for somebody, anybody, to take Ed's place tonight but the risks for the child would be too big: Pozzi might already be familiar with Ed's voice, his frame and the way he moved... No, there was no other possibility.  
At least he would give him all the help he could. Of course he had expected that something like this was likely to happen and had anticipated it.

He opened the bag he had brought with him and grabbed a little plastic box. "You won't be on your own, Ed. Fix this tracker to your belt."

Ed struggled to his feet to do so. The Chief watched him attentively. "You need a back brace to support your back. Weren't you given one when you left the hospital?"

"No, I wasn't to go out for long walks – they suspected that I would overdo it if I had one."

This sounded a little out of place considering Ed's activities that morning and Mark had to stifle his laughter – knowing well that his urge to laugh was a sign of being nervous rather than of something really amusing.

Being a practical woman, Lena had been thinking about the same matter, and she came up with an idea: "I have an old child backpack that I kept for Enrico. It's quite stiff. I could cut away the fabric."

The result looked very strange. It sat tightly around Ed's back though, and moreover Lena had fixed it with bandages around his chest. Ed had had to clench his teeth while she did that, but in the end it seemed to help him keep upright.

Since the night would be chilly Mark lent Ed his jacket. They helped Ed put it on. He stuffed his note book, a pencil and a flashlight into his pockets and grabbed his crutches.

"Ed – try to stay alive," said the Chief, and Lena: "God bless you."

Mark followed the signal of the tracker in a police car, although at a reasonable distance. He couldn't risk being seen. By car phone he provided Ironside with information.

For about five nerve-wracking hours, nothing happened. It seemed as if Pozzi was sending Ed from phone booth to phone booth. Ironside was surprised at how fast his injured Sergeant was moving during the first hour. This man was absolutely determined to do what he considered to be his duty... he was stubborn to a dangerous degree. But all the same he was slowing down gradually. The Chief followed his movements on a map. He couldn't detect any pattern. He wondered what Pozzi was up to and came to the conclusion that he probably just wanted to tire Ed out.

And in fact Ed was getting bone-tired of walking and solving riddles. So he only became aware of Pozzi when he almost toppled over him at a crossroads.

"Stop here." Again Pozzi was threatening Enrico with his knife.

"There's an old sewer under this road. You will follow it." At that he switched on a headlamp.

At least this time, the manhole was open. Nevertheless getting down there would be a challenge.  
Ed slipped the crutches over his left elbow, keeping his right hand free to grab the iron rungs on the wall of the shaft.  
Somehow he managed to get down in one piece. There wasn't much water in the sewer, not more than a couple of inches, but it was very slippery, especially for someone on crutches.

"Don't look back," Pozzi ordered, shedding light into the sewer in front of them.

Ed walked very carefully, followed by Pozzi with Enrico. He was tempted to attack Pozzi just to end the whole farce, but he couldn't take the risk because it would endanger the child.

What Ed had been afraid of happened after about fifty yards: he slipped and fell into the water.

It could have been a lot worse but the backpack really did the trick and protected his back. Unfortunately he fell onto his left hip where he had fixed the tracker. He had no way of knowing if it still worked.  
And of course he was soaking wet now.

"Get up and keep moving!" barked Pozzi. That was easier said than done, and Ed had troubles to obey because his crutches kept slipping. Finally he managed to stand up and he proceeded even more cautiously than before.

After what seemed a very long time Pozzi made Ed climb up to street level through another manhole. Ed had lost his bearings in the mazy sewer. Coming up to the surface again, he had no idea where he was. All he could see were several big adjoining houses. An old part of town maybe?

"Cross the street. The house over there has an elevator so use it. You will find my next letter on the roof."

Ed was very grateful for the chance to rest his back against the wall of the old elevator for a little while. Then he reached the roof. With his flashlight he found Pozzi's letter right away. It said:

"Solve the following problem. The right solution will indicate the right direction:

(5*32+83)exp(1/5) + x = ∑(k²-12) with kєZ and kє[3,6[

9 = north, 11 = east, 13 = west".

* * *

_Author's note: "exp" meaning "exponent" is not the official way to note it, but I wasn't able to write it correctly. (1/5) should be superscript like "2" in "k²"_


	8. Chapter 8

Because he didn't know where he was, Ed had to check the North star to be sure of his direction. Going south would have been impossible as there was the street he had crossed before entering this house. He solved the problem and consequently turned eastwards.

He considered "loosing" Pozzi's letter so Ironside's men could follow him – if they ever found this place. He decided against it: It was too dangerous, for it was possible that Pozzi himself was still on his heels. And the tracker might still be working, who knew?

Arriving at the eastern side of the roof he saw that there was a free standing wall between this house and the next, about six yards away!

* * *

Still in the police car, Mark came to the crossroads where Ed had gone down into the sewer. The signal stopped. Of course the manhole was closed now and Mark didn't know where Ed had vanished.

Mark informed Ironside, who slammed his fist onto the armrest of his wheelchair in frustration. He had feared that this would happen: despite his efforts, Ed was completely on his own now.

Their only hope to find Ed was to concentrate on the books, although of course they didn't know if Pozzi would go back to the place which might or might not be mentioned in the code.

Ironside was blaming himself. He should have stopped his Sergeant. Now they might lose both the child and Ed.

He had to think of how rough he had been on him a few weeks ago, when Ed had refused to let the surgeons of the Craig Institute perform an experimental surgery on his broken back. For once, Ed had let Ironside take a glimpse into his soul, admitting that he was scared. Now, Ironside was scared himself, scared for his friend's life and the one of the child he felt responsible for.  
Dr. Craig had called Ironside a "father figure" for his people, and the Chief had laughed at that expression. Perhaps Craig had been right after all. As for Mark and Fran, there was no question. But what about Ed? They had been working together for a long time now. He had seen the potential of the smart ex-marine. In the meantime, the boy, as Ironside's protégé, had grown into a very competent professional. He was devoted and loyal to the Chief, although he could have made a faster career anywhere else. Yes, Ed was virtually "his first-born". If only he could give him a hand now! In his mind, a silent prayer formed: "O my God, help him!"

* * *

Ed was shivering in his wet clothes – it wasn't fear, was it?

He had never been afraid of heights, otherwise he probably wouldn't have been sitting on the balustrade of that terrace when he had been shot. But walking over a wall some thirty yards above ground by night with crutches... that wasn't just a matter of being afraid of heights or not. That was probably rather a matter of being crazy or not. Yet there was Enrico... his life was at stake. Ed took a quick look below and shuddered. He had no choice. He had to do it...  
Then something seemed to snap in his mind. He didn't know where he got the courage from, but he didn't care. If he just avoided looking down... After the first few steps it didn't even seem to be too difficult anymore.

He reached the house on the other side safely and read Pozzi's next note:

JNETR-UTROL-MOOYE-PTOOF-OHFUT

It looked like a simple quadratic lattice.

"JNETR  
UTROL  
MOOYE  
PTOOF  
OHFUT"

Ed re-arranged it:

"JUMPO  
NTOTH  
EROOF  
TOYOU  
RLEFT"

"JUMPONTOTHEROOFTOYOURLEFT"

"Jump onto the roof to your left."

When Ed looked down to that roof, his heart skipped a beat: There had to be a difference in height of at least four yards – no problem for a healthy young man like himself a month ago, since the two houses were built together. But in his present state it was a different matter entirely.

What about another fall like this morning? Yet he had no choice, Enrico relied on him...

He flung his crutches slightly away from the wall. He hoped to avoid falling onto them. Because of his broken left wrist he intended to use his right hand to let himself down as far as he could. What he hadn't considered was the weakness of his back: It felt as if it got torn apart. Not even his makeshift backrest helped this time. He lost his grip on the wall and fell onto the flat roof of the smaller house. Everything went black.

* * *

_Author's note:_

_Dear readers, the equation in chapter 7 was not difficult at all. I suppose that the notation with "exp" confused you. Sorry about that._

_We know that Ed went to college (7.19 A Death in Academe), so I suppose he could do it. My problem is to explain it in English :-)_

_(5*32+83) exp (1/5) + x = ∑(k²-12) with kєZ and kє[3,6[_

_That is:  
_

_5th radical of 243 + x = Sum of k²-12 with whole numbers from 3 to 5  
_

_3 + x = (9-12) + (16-12) + (25-12)_

_3 + x = (-3) + 4 + 13_

_x = 11_


	9. Chapter 9

** Day four**

When Ed regained consciousness he was lying flat on his stomach. How did he get here? How long had he been lying here? Consulting his watch, he noticed that the glass was broken and the watch didn't work anymore. Why in blazes was he lying on a concrete floor in damp clothes? He felt very cold and very stiff. Slowly he began to remember: He had fallen into some water... and obviously he had fallen off a wall, too... Had he hit his head somewhere? At any rate he couldn't just lie there, he had to get up, he had a job to do... Although he couldn't remember what it was, he knew that it was urgent...

He turned onto his side in one determined movement and made an attempt to sit up, but a jolt of pain in his back made him gasp for air, then blackness overtook again.

* * *

Urgent... urgent... this was his first conscious thought. There was this mission... he couldn't let the Chief down... if only he knew what it was...

Again he tried to get up, but the breathtaking pain seemed to make the sky turn around 360 degrees, and he was ill, even though there was hardly anything left in his stomach. For a few minutes he was just panting for air, feeling miserable. This couldn't be real, could not happen. Was impossible. He wished he could go back into nothingness.

There was only so much a man could take, and Ed had reached this point now. He let his head drop onto the cold floor. He just wanted to give up, never have to fight anymore, wanted to be left alone, die if possible... The Chief would have to understand that. Would have to. Would have...

Suddenly it hit him like a blow: Enrico! Ed could give up his own life, but he could not give up an innocent child's life – not as long as there was a chance of saving him. But how...?

He pulled himself together and tried to get up again... it was impossible.

Ed didn't panic easily, but now he felt panic rising: Was he paralyzed? And if so – what would happen to Enrico? Only too well did he remember the horrible moment in the Craig Institute when he had realized that he had no feeling in his legs. "Wiggle your toes, Sergeant," Dr. Ritter had ordered, but he hadn't been able to do it.

"Okay", he commanded to himself, "keep calm and wiggle your toes, Sergeant!"

He tried – and managed. He tried to move his legs and managed, too. It hurt, but Ed didn't care. Perhaps he had just a concussion and a few cuts and bruises. That had happened before, that was nothing to worry about.

Ergo he should be able to stand up. He tried again and found out what exactly was happening: Every movement caused a jolt of pain from his back to his head which made him dizzy and sick. He tried to suppress it, but to no avail. He just couldn't.

Now it was fear and distress that paralyzed him. What if he didn't find Enrico before 6 a.m.?

An almost desperate prayer left his lips: "Please, God, for Enrico's sake – help me!"

A thought crossed his mind: Perhaps he could find Pozzi's next letter and decipher it. In the meantime the pain might gradually abate.

Amazingly, his flashlight still worked. Very carefully he looked around. In the ray of the flashlight he saw a roof tile weighing down a piece of paper... no more than three yards away.

Never three yards had seemed a longer distance. He dragged himself over the rough concrete inch by inch. Neither his pants nor Mark's jacket would ever be the same after this adventure.  
He got there in the end. He opened the envelope and read:

30247 64815 4321 34568 21605 4321 17284 4321 82099 82099 86420 77778 4321 38889 30247 34568 86420 4321 82099 69136 64815 82099 82099 38889 8642 51852 21605 4321 60494 17284 47531 60494 64815 12963 47531 4321 86420 86420 34568 21605 77778 38889 30247 34568 86420 17284 64815 64815 77778.


	10. Chapter 10

That was obviously a numeric code. Even in his foggy mind Ed saw that there was only one four-digit number, 4321. He found out that all the others were multiples of 4321. That meant a lot of calculating, but it didn't look difficult. Ed was quite thankful for that. The easiest possibility was a=1, b=2, c=3 and so on, and each number multiplied by 4321.

To Ed's astonishment, it worked. The solution was:

goaheadasstraightaspossiblea ndknockattherightdoor  
"Go ahead as straight as possible and knock at the right door."

There seemed to be an English mistake. Surely Pozzi meant:  
"Go ahead as straight as possible and knock _on_ the right door."

Ed made a new, very careful attempt to stand up. This time he knew what to expect. He braced himself – and he managed to struggle to his feet.

He had no problem finding his way, going there was slightly trickier.

Slowly he crossed the flat roof. At its end was a big old gable roof. Normally it would have been easy for Ed to get onto that one and walk on it or glide down on his backside – but not in his present state. Before he could sit down he slipped and rolled down near the bottom of the roof. There were numerous chimneys and protrusions and Ed was sure he hit every single one of them. The good thing about them was that they slowed him down. Finally a high chimney stopped his fall. For an unknown period of time he was just lying there. In a corner of his mind he heard the magic word that had kept him going so far: "Enrico". As if on auto-pilot he picked himself up again.

There wasn't much distance from the chimney to the eaves which weren't high above ground. Below the roof was a pile of firewood. Lying on his stomach Ed threw some of it to the ground in order to build himself a ramp to get down.

In the course of action he had lost his flashlight and crutches. A crescent moon gave just enough light to see where to go. He looked around carefully and finally found one of the crutches. The second one was lost. It wouldn't be easy to get on like this, but there was no other way. He had to reach his goal.

He remembered Pozzi's last note:  
"Go ahead as straight as possible and knock on the right door."

Had falling down that roof brought him out of the line? No, probably not, because even if he had been able to walk there would have been no other way.

"Straight," that had to be exactly northwards. Therefore he had to turn left and cross a small road. Opposite the house with the gable roof stood a smaller house, an old store. Ed dragged himself over the road. He kept thinking about Enrico; there wasn't room in his head for any other thought. He had to make it to him in time...

Luckily there were only two entrance doors. If this was the building Pozzi had meant then he had to choose the right one. Ed steadied himself against the wall while he knocked. He didn't have to wait long. Pozzi opened, his knife at the ready.

"Come in."

In the light of the corridor Pozzi studied the slouching man in his tattered clothes.  
His voice was trembling with restrained fury. "I can't believe it. Do you really think that you are worthy of my daughter?!"

XXXXX

In the meantime, Ironside's staff hadn't been inactive. Right after Ed had left, the Chief had explained to Lena that it might still be helpful to decipher Pozzi's last code. Actually this was the only lead they could follow right now. He had already ordered two police officers with a search warrant to Pozzi's place. Fran and Lena should meet them and together they would browse through Pozzi's books. The apartment was locked, but Lena still had a key.

Lena tried hard to remember what book wasn't there anymore. She supposed that it had to be one of Pozzi's math books... but she could not think of one she knew but was now missing.

The four of them started to check the code with every single book, but to no avail.

Fran needed all her self-control to do the work at hand. The worry about Ed let her thoughts drift off. He had looked so vulnerable, and yet he had not hesitated for a second to put his life on the line for Lena's child. Would he have the stamina to get through this? And how much would it cost him? For the second time within a few weeks she feared for his life.

Suddenly Lena had an entirely new idea: Her mother had often read the Holy Bible in Italian, but Lena couldn't find it. It wasn't much but it was a lead at last! Ironside might have been right about Pozzi taking her Bible with him to make it more difficult for them to crack the code.

But how could they get an Italian Bible in the middle of the night?

Fran called her resourceful Chief for help. He recalled a young woman, Angela. She was working at an Italian bookstore. He had met her many years ago when he could still walk. She had been a little girl then, a random victim in a kidnapping case. As he had always had a soft spot for children she had become his little friend, and he was sure that she would be glad to help him out if she could.

He had to let the phone ring eighteen times until it was answered. Angela's sleepy voice didn't sound very enthusiastic, but when she recognized Ironside's voice she was awake at once. They agreed that she would meet with Fran and Lena at the bookstore half an hour later.

When they left, they ran into Mark who had lost track of Ed. Because he wasn't needed in Pozzi's apartment he joined Fran and Lena.

Angela, a twenty-two year old petite woman with bleached hair, was already waiting for them. It turned out that she didn't have a key to the entrance door and that she hadn't been able to reach her boss, the owner of the bookstore.

"Tell me – how important is that Bible really?" she asked.

"It could save two lives," Fran replied.

Since Ironside was the only policeman Angela really knew, her confidence into the police was infinite. "Ok. You are police officers. Can you break into the bookstore? I will take the responsibility."

"No – as police officers we can't. But perhaps Mark could. Couldn't you, Mark?"

"You know, it's been a while since I have done that kind of job. But for my friends I'd do anything. Would you please turn around and look the other way?"

Of course all three women watched him closely as he unlocked the door with a paper clip. Still they had no clue how he had done it. For a moment Mark almost forgot why they were here and enjoyed the girls' amazement.

Lena was puzzled at how far everyone was willing to go to help Ed and Enrico.

Getting serious, Fran explained: "You see, we care as much for Ed as you do for Enrico. He's always been like a big brother to us – a levelheaded, reliable, caring brother." She thought about their bad start and how it had been Ed who had reached out his hand for reconciliation and offered her his shoulder when she had needed it. She had never thanked him. Would she ever have the chance to make good for that?

In all her misery Lena felt surrounded by good, helpful people, which gave her a lot of support and comfort.

The next problem was to find the right Bible. There were several in Italian. Lena recognized the "Luzzi" from around 1920. They quickly checked the code – but the words made no sense at all.

Discouraged, Fran phoned the Chief: "We were so sure that this was the right book...!"

Ironside, who was trying to hide his own worry, thought about it for a minute, then he came up with another idea: "As I understand, Pozzi never worked with words, but only with single letters. Try those instead!"

Fran tested this solution. Excitedly she read: "6 pm the two thousand dollars your mother stole from me..." and an address.

"He probably means the money my mother gave me over the years since the time my father threw me out of his house. It may all in all have been about that much. But of course I don't have it anymore," Lena stated.

Fran reassured her: "That's not essential now. The main point is that we know where he wanted to be yesterday at 6 p.m. – and it's possible that he's still there – or rather 'again'."

They informed the Chief who was very relieved: At least they had a chance of knowing where Ed was being directed. Of course Ironside arranged everything to be ready if by chance Pozzi would still be using the same hideout.

So, when Ed approached, Ironside knew that Pozzi had to be there. The place was being watched by a well-hidden Mark and Fran, while Chief and Lena were waiting in the van just around the next corner.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Pozzi directed Ed into a dull, sparsely furnished room in a corner of the abandoned store. Enrico was sleeping on a dirty blanket beside an old table. Two chairs completed the modest furnishing.

Pozzi chose the chair nearest Enrico, leaving Ed no choice but to sit down on the one in the opposite corner of the room.

"Tomorrow morning," Pozzi said while checking his watch, "well…today actually, I will call my daughter at 6 o'clock. She owes me a lot of money. You are my insurance policy in case she gets the police and they don't care about the kid."

Cold fury shone through his voice.

In a symbolic act he took Ed's crutch - the one he had left -, kicking it repeatedly until it cracked and threw it away, well out of Ed's reach.

"Sooner or later I will kill that little bastard anyway. How can a basically decent girl like my daughter find a husband if she has an illegitimate child? Losing him will be her punishment. But in the long run she will be thankful. And there's nothing you can do to stop me."

The old man was insane, that was obvious now. He was determined to do what he had announced.

Ed frenziedly tried to find a way to help Enrico. Would he manage to stand up fast enough if he used his good hand to push himself up from the chair, and perhaps fight Pozzi?

He was well aware that his back would probably not tolerate that. But he was ready to 'face reality', as he had once called it: being stuck in a wheelchair like the Chief. And even if it should cost him his own life, it was his duty to try and protect Enrico's.

If only he could get to Pozzi and grab that knife! Would he be able to hinder him enough to give Enrico a chance to run?

And then it happened out of the blue: Enrico said that he had to go to the bathroom. He hadn't been asleep at all and had perfectly well understood what his grandfather had said. Instead of waiting until his grandfather allowed him to stand up, he ran towards the door and tried to flee.

Pozzi was furious. He grabbed the little boy easily. "That's enough, little brat. Now you'll get it!" And with that he flipped his knife open.

Ed threw himself forward and more or less jumped towards the older man. In spite of a terrible sting in his back he reached the table. That gave him enough support to get onto Pozzi whose knife had already scratched Enrico's throat, but then Ed was there and knocked the hand with the knife away. Enrico came free and ran out of the door. Ed and Pozzi were fighting for the knife. Ed didn't stand a chance, but he wanted to delay Pozzi as long as possible to give Enrico a head-start. Both men fell down, wrestling on the ancient lino, Pozzi on top, Ed soon defeated and finally helpless.

In his rage, Pozzi obviously didn't know what he was doing anymore. He probably would have killed Ed, had Mark not already been ready to intervene when Enrico came running out. Seeing his friend in danger he threw himself on Pozzi, disregarding the knife, thinking only about his friend's safety and taking Pozzi as far away from Ed as he could. Pozzi fought like a berserk, but Mark was no less furious about what his adversary had done to his good friend. They were both rolling on the dirty floor when Ironside wheeled in. Appalled at the sight of his Sergeant who was probably critically wounded and needed help urgently, the Chief had to fight his rising anger at his own helplessness. In order to stop that fight so that Ed could be helped, he pulled his gun from his suit pocket and fired a shot into the wooden ceiling. It did the trick: Mark and Pozzi interrupted their fight for a moment and Fran was able to step in. Together with Mark she arrested Pozzi, while Ironside was holding him at gunpoint.

A team of paramedics had been standing by too since Ed had entered the building.

Ironside watched solicitously the agitation around his friend, as they tried to stabilize him.

The Chief hid his turmoil of emotions behind a stony face. He saw his Sergeant's battered body and felt tortured himself. Pain and hatred filled his heart: Hatred against the man who had done this to his friend.

Then his gaze came to rest on Pozzi. He didn't resist when he was handcuffed. All his aggressive energy seemed to have left him. He called for his daughter. "Lena – please help me. I would have killed your son..."

"And you may very well have killed a fine young man who tried everything to save him," Ironside hissed inwardly.

"...I was out of my mind. I can't tell you how sorry I am..." Pozzi went on. Lena took his arm and guided him away.

Ironside struggled with himself. No, he forced himself to correct his thoughts – no, it wasn't hatred, it couldn't be. It was pity, in spite of everything...

Then one of the paramedics reported that the patient was stable enough to be moved.

Ironside arranged for Ed to be flown to the Craig institute in Los Angeles.

He wondered if either of the two men - Pozzi and Ed – would ever have a chance of a life worth living after this ordeal. Both would need a miracle: One physically, the other mentally. But could such miracles really happen?


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Once again Ed was lying face down on a hospital bed, with Dr. Craig, Dr. Ritter and Dr. Hunter at his bedside. Bill Ritter was furious.

"After everything we did to get him back on his legs – how could he take such careless risks? I don't care about the publication of my new technique but we paid such a high price for his surgery. My daughter was in danger because of him, and that's why I can't forgive him."  
Looking at Ed, whose face was turned the other way, he added: "You know, Sergeant, I really thought you'd be a little smarter than that. Was it worth playing hero?"

Through the fog in his mind Ed tried to understand Dr. Ritter's reproaches. He was very sorry for what had happened to Jenny Ritter, and he could appreciate that Dr. Ritter reacted emotionally about her. But these last few days, she had been safe. Enrico hadn't. His life was all that had counted. What would they have wanted him to do? He just couldn't get it.

Because in the doctors' eyes his lying here was entirely his own fault, he had to hide how he felt. He was glad that they couldn't see his face.

But Dr. Hunter noticed the signs all the same: The cramped back, the tense arms, the sweat on the patient's neck.

"That would be enough for the moment, I think," he said, shooing his colleagues away from the bed and out the door. "I'll take care of everything. Surgery as soon as possible."

In the corridor he laid his hand onto Ritter's arm.  
"I understand very well how much all this affects you. But even though Sgt. Brown might have been stupid, he's still a human being in need of our help."

"That wasn't stupid, that was criminal!" Ritter grumbled, stomping away.

"What now?" Dr. Craig asked.  
"Bill will calm down. And Sgt. Brown first of all needs morphine, and he needs it quickly."  
"I've realized that too," Craig nodded, and Hunter headed off to get the medication.

* * *

"I'm giving you something against the pain, Sergeant," he said to Ed. "It's going to ease off in a second."  
In an attempt to take his patient's mind off things Hunter asked: "Just tell me one thing, Sergeant: It _was_important, wasn't it?"

Because he couldn't possibly talk through clenched teeth Ed just nodded. It had been important. And it had worked out. Enrico was safe. Very, very slowly he relaxed and finally fell asleep.

* * *

When he came through the main entrance of the Craig Institute, Ironside encountered Dr. Ritter. He got to hear a whole lot of what the doctor thought about his Sergeant.

"... Saving the world was more important, I suppose," he ended sarcastically.

"Sgt. Brown wasn't saving the world, just one little boy. Sure, there are a lot of little boys in San Francisco, but to his mother, this particular one means the world. At one point, Brown had to choose between this child's life and the use of his legs, perhaps even his own life. What choice would you have made, doctor?"  
Ironside's voice was perfectly neutral, without any trace of offence. For a while, there was silence between the two men. Ritter broke it.

"O my God, what have I done to that young man? Will he ever be able to forgive me?"

"Perhaps at the moment helping him would be more urgent than being forgiven."

"Yes, yes, of course. I'll do whatever I can..." With that, Ritter hastened back to the patient he'd left a moment ago.

For a very long time Ironside had to wait in Dr. Craig's office, his anxiety growing by the minute. This time, he was alone, since Eve and Mark had to run the office in San Francisco.

When Craig came in he sensed the Chief's distress immediately.

"Relax, Bob – he's asleep now, and that won't change for some time. It's a miracle. His spine isn't broken anew. There's quite some damage to nerves and sinews in his back, that's why he was in so much pain. But we can treat that with conventional techniques. What's worse is the deplorable general state he's in. He's underweight, completely worn out and looks like he spent the last twenty-four hours in a tumble-dryer. We have patched him up as good as possible and set his broken wrist again. He's got quite a fight ahead, but given time and good care he still has a chance of a full recovery."

The Chief took a very long breath. He felt as if a weight had been liftedoff his shoulders. "Thank God!" he said, and he meant it. And then, smiling broadly: "You still have that bottle of bourbon in your cabinet, don't you?"

**Day five**

Twenty-four hours later, everybody wanted to know how Sgt. Brown was doing.  
Ironside stayed in LA – officially because of some unfinished business about the drug case Ed had solved, but in fact it was because he couldn't leave his friend all alone.  
Since Ed was still drugged out and hardly conscious, the Chief had to answer the same questions again and again: Ed was very weak, but doing as well as could be expected.

Angela took a big interest in the man whose life she had helped saving. Her boss had been very understanding and had even paid the replacement of the lock of his bookstore. But this time he had chosen one that couldn't be opened with a paper-clip!

Ben came by himself. He'd had a delivery to do to LA anyway. In the meantime, Lena had explained to him the whole story, as far as she knew it herself. He was glad that he had been able to add a small but important piece to the whole puzzle. And even though Ed wasn't aware of it yet, he had found a new friend.

In his half-sleep, Ed saw the door open again. It seemed to him that this time a very small person was entering his room. To get his attention, that little person pulled on his right arm and shouted: "Good Evening, Sergeant Brown! You know, you're my hero but now I have another one. And because of him, I will have to change my name, and..."

"Be careful, Enrico! – And I'm sure you don't make sense to Sgt. Brown!"  
With that, Lena came in too. Enrico was picked up by a third person: A man with dark, curly hair.

"Ed, this is Marco, Enrico's father. Your Chief found his import company and then Marco himself in Brazil yesterday. He left everything behind immediately, and we've just met here in LA."

Marco was about forty years old and slightly plump and, through very thick glasses, he was looking at the immobilized patient in a friendly and compassionate manner.

Ed, who was far too tired to think straight, wondered briefly if Marco was another one of Lena's "lame ducks".

"Of course I would never have left Lena if I had known about Enrico. I'm very fortunate that we are back together and I intend to make both of them very happy."

No, Ed decided, no lame duck. He was a loving father. Exactly what Enrico needed.

"We will get married as soon as possible. We'll just wait until you are out of hospital, because you have to join the party. Without you, we wouldn't be here now!"

Through the fog in his head, Ed tried to focus on the little family – a little piece of the world was fixed, and he had been able to help.

Marco would be a loving husband as well. Exactly what Lena needed.

A faint smile crossed his waxen face. "I'll be happy to come," he whispered.

At that moment, Ed spotted Ironside looking at the four of them from the doorway. With mock sternness the Chief said:  
"Be assured that the hospital will only let Sgt. Brown walk out of here on his own two feet. Otherwise – who's going to pay for all those crutches he doesn't bring back?!"

* * *

_Author's notes:_

_- Thank you so much, my dear readers and reviewers! Your comments keep writers motivated! You were very kind and patient with me. I know well that this story is more like a "spin-off". _

_- Thank you so much, my dear beta "Lemonpig", for enduring lots of "Ed"!_

_- Promise: Next story will be better balanced. _


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